Pick Me Up And Piece Me Back Together
by SweetyBird282
Summary: Logan is being bulied. He's in a dark place. Really dark. But can someone change that? How? Inspired by Three Days Grace songs. Rated M because of violence, language, and because I'm a little paranoid.
1. Someone Who Cares

A fist collided with my side. Hard. I felt like crying out in pain, but a hand was held above my mouth, to keep that from happening. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. It hurt too much. Only one thought was on my mind; _not again. Please, just not again_.

Another fist collided with the side of my face. Then a harder punch landed at my other side, undoubtedly fracturing at least one rib.

As if that wasn't enough, somebody started kicking me wherever they could reach.

_Why me? What have I done wrong?_ I wondered mentally, unable to stop the tears from falling. The pain was just too great.

"Geek."

I was shoved into a concrete wall, hard. My shoulder, ribs and hip taking the force of the blow.

"Nerd."

A hand grabbed onto the back of my head, shoving my face right into the wall, pain shooting all through my body. A sticky, warm substance dripping from my nose. Blood.

"Freak."

A kick landing on my chest, pushing my ribcage back painfully, successfully knocking the wind out of me, but not far enough to break anything. I doubled over, desperate for air.

"You don't deserve to live. You should just get out of our way. Just go hang yourself or something, nobody wants you."

Another kick, to the back of my knees, sending me straight too the ground – face first. Blood seeping out in a tiny pool around my nose.

The voices surrounding me, pushing me up in a corner of the ally, where filled with hate. Speaking only one truth; nobody wanted me. Nobody ever had, nor ever would. Not even my own father wanted me, he never had. My mom didn't really care about me. She was never home. Never around. Never asking about my injuries. I had no friends either.

They where right, they where all right. There was no point in me being alive; I should just go hang myself, or something.

There was no end to the name calling, reminding me, as if that was really necessary, of how worthless I was. How worthless I am.

Kicks and punches where thrown. _This is it_, I thought calmly, coldly, _I'm going to die tonight. These people are going to kill me. Nobody will care. _

It's for the best.

Finally, the beating stopped. My eyelids barley open. My body bruised and broken. Scarred and bleeding. My heart – my soul – in a far worse condition.

My tormentors were disappearing from the ally. Leaving me alone, deeming me dead, or broken enough. I didn't know. I couldn't bring myself to think. I was acting on instinct, sort of, my body telling me the torture was over. Finally.

For now at least.

Barley breathing, my body aching like never before, I slowly – with heavy help of the wall behind me – got up on my feet. Putting one foot in front of the other, as if learning to walk all over again – pain shooting through my body at each movement – I slowly, but surley gathered my books together that where scattered about on the ground. A result of me being attacked.

Pages of my notebook where scattered out, having fell out in the rush, now drifting off with the wind. The scene around me was a mess. The usual garbage, mixed in with my wrinkled, wet and damaged notes and schoolbooks. Blood was on the ground, some of it staining my notes too, along with dirt and water from the rainstorm that had passed.

I cringed at the sight.

My mom would kill me for damaging school property. My teachers would be pissed.

Sighing heavily, knowing I would face punishment once they found out – dreading that knowledge – I slung my bag over my shoulder, flinching in pain at the extra weight, and stumbled towards the abandoned house.

My secret hiding spot. Not really by choice – I simply had no one to tell.

Stumbling over my own feet, barley able to walk and hurting like hell, the pain finally hitting me with full force. I fell down – collapsed – to the ground, curling up in a corner. My iPod in hand and ear buds plugged in, blasting music. Three Days Grace.

My only savior, my only help, my only friend – my only passion in life was music. Without it I wouldn't be alive.

A lingering voice in the back of my mind – one that was constantly growing stronger day by day – telling me I had no reason to live. Nobody cared anyways. I would just rid the world of trouble – of unnecessary used space.

Finally letting all my pain out, tears began to fall. My lip trembling with pain, hurt. Feeling lost and alone. My hands curling up into fists, my knuckles going white with the force. My head fell back against the wall. A ball of emotions churned in the pit of my stomach, causing even more pain.

Through heavy tears I let my eyes scan the room I knew all too well. I had come here once too often. Every time I would be beaten down, bleeding, hurt, scarred. Every time I would die a little more inside.

With a weak, obviously pained voice, I softly sang along to the song.

"Every street in this city,

Is the same to me

Everyone's got a place to be,

But there's no room for me

Am I to blame?

When the guilt and the shame, hang over me

Like a dark cloud,

That chases you down in the pouring rain"

The song always hit a nerve. It was right though; there was no room for me.

"It's so hard to find someone

Who cares about you,

But it's easy enough to find someone,

Who looks down on you

Why is it so hard to find someone,

Who cares about you?

When it's easy enough to find someone,

Who looks down on you"

My voice grew slightly stronger at the chorus, no longer shaking, but the pain still all too evident.

"It's not what it seems,

When you're not on the scene,

There's a chill in the air

But there's people like me,

That nobody sees, so nobody cares

Why is it so hard to find someone,

Who cares about you?

When it's easy enough to find someone,

Who looks down on you.

Why is it so hard to find someone,

Who can keep it together

When you've come undone?

Why is it so hard to find someone,

Who cares about you?"

It was like a sudden urge of confidence and anger flooded over me, allowing me to raise my voice. Urging me to do so. Singing the next verse with a new feeling – hatred – still mixed in with pain.

"I swear this time it won't turn out

The same 'cause now I've got myself to blame

And you'll know where we'll end up

On the streets that it's easy enough

To find someone who looks down on you

Why is it so hard to find someone

Who cares about you?

When it's easy enough to find someone

Who looks down on you

Why is it so hard to find someone

Who can keep it together

When you've come undone?

Why is it so hard to find someone

Who cares about you?"

My breathing was slightly quicker. Almost less restricted – although still painful with a few broken ribs. "You know, there are people who care," a voice said, making me jump. My heartbeat quickened. I automatically searched for the source of the voice, my eyes landing on a tall, blonde haired form. The blonde came closer to me, gasping as he got close enough to really see me.

_He must think you're ugly as hell_, a voice shouted in my mind. But looking up at his eyes, those wonderful green orbs, I saw pain and empathy.

"Ohh," he said softly, "what happened to you?" Genuine curiosity and empathy was evident in his voice as he bent down, stroking my cheek softly with a thumb. As he pulled his hand away, I saw it was coated with blood. My blood.

The man – boy, he looked to be about my age – got up on his feet again, only to leave me alone. "Wait!" I called after him, hating how desperate I sounded, "Where are you going?"

A smile appeared on his face, a comforting one, not the mocking or hurtful kind I was used to seeing. "I'm just going to get some stuff to fix you up with. Take away the blood and stuff," he said with his melodic voice. "I won't be long. I'll be back," he said, still with a smile, "I promise," he added softly.

I began to hyperventilate, going into a full panic attack. The one person I felt – hoped – wouldn't leave me, was doing that exact thing right then. Despite the blonde promising not to leave, he would. I just knew it. Nobody ever stayed around me by free will. Not me. I was just some worthless nerd. A freak. I have no reason to live.

"Hey, hey," a soothing voice called. The blonde ran over to me with something in his hands, got down on both knees in front of me, placing a calming hand on my cheek, rubbing it gently. "Breathe," he ordered softly, "just take deep breaths, calm down. No one's gonna hurt you now."

The blonde kept rubbing my cheek gently, until I calmed down and my breathing got back to normal. Then he lowered his hand and picked up a washcloth, starting to clean off the blood of my face. "What happened to you?" he repeated. The look in his eyes told me he genuinely cared, that he really wanted to know. Flinching in pain as he reached my nose, he whispered a 'sorry' so filled with truth and emotion, I almost felt a little better. Almost.

"Dude, your nose is broken," he stated matter-of-factly, but with an undertone of worry. "J-just… uh, grab the bridge a-and force it back in place, a-and it'll heal. Eventually," I told him. He gave me a quizzical look. "Y-you sure?"

"Yeah," I breathed, barley audible, "I want to be a doctor when I get older. I kinda studied ahead… that's what any doctor would do."

"Ohh," he said, "that's cool. I think you'd make an awesome doctor. I'd totally be your patient," he said with a smile. Taking a deep breath he said, "well then, if you're sure, I'll do it. Doctors orders and all, huh?" he attempted a joking tone, but I could tell he was nervous, as if he was afraid he'd hurt me more. One more deep breath, and the blonde boy went for it, pulling my nose back in place – making me cry out in pain. Goddamn! That was way more painful than I had imagined it to be!

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" the blonde half-shouted, worried he'd only made things worse. "i-it's okay. It's really not that bad. Doesn't hurt anymore – promise."

"Seriously?" The blonde obviously didn't believe me. "y-yeah. I – I'm kinda used to being in pain."

"What? Why?"

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I began to tell him the entire story, how I would get pushed around and called names every day. How I was a complete loner – isolated from any sociality at school. How I would get beat up and attacked – to the point where I could barley breathe or walk. Like today.

A mask of pure horror and disgust was on his face. Though, it seemed to be for the fact that somebody would treat me that way, not whatever other reason he should have. A hand went up to cover his mouth as he let out a gasp when I told him what had happened to me today. "That-that's _horrible_! I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to go through that. _Nobody_ ever should. I mean, okay you wanna be a doctor when you grow up, you study a lot. That's cool – you just want to achieve your dreams. There's nothing wrong with that." The blonde smiled at me, a bright, charming smile. I found myself drawn to it, and automatically scolded myself for even going there. If I started pining for boys too, my life would be beyond the hell it already was. There would be even more torture, and less of a reason to live. I couldn't go there.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with going after one's dreams – if anything it makes you really awesome. Even more awesome than you already are. I mean, not that I know you that well, or at all really, but from my impression of you, you're a really awesome kid, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. You have a really great voice too, by the way."

I blushed all the while a smile – something so unusual for me to feel it was almost alienated – slowly grew brighter on my face. "You're much more awesome than I am," said softly. "I seriously doubt that," the blonde said. "You are," I insisted, "you came over to me and took care of my injuries, even tough you don't know me, and actually make me feel like somebody actually cares about me, and that I have a reason to keep living."

The blonde's face paled. "Y-you really saw no reason to keep living?"

"No," I told him truthfully, "people are always bashing me. My dad left me and my mom a long time ago, said we weren't worth his time, and my mom's never around. She doesn't ask if I'm injured, I barley ever talk to her, and when I do she's always pushing me to make more of an effort at school, or scolding me for something I did wrong. I have no friends… My life is a living hell. I-I just don't see a reason to live."

"R-really?"

"Yeah. But then you showed up, and you kinda made me think that I might be worth a little after all."

"You are! You so are."

"Thanks," I said softly, looking down at my shoes. "I don't wanna sound pathetic or whatever, but, if you hadn't been here, I might have killed myself tonight."

The blonde paled even more. Eventually, he recovered from the initial shock and said, "good thing I came out here then. That way you're still alive, and hopefully you'll stay alive so I can see you again."

"Really?" I asked, perking up, "you _want_ to see me again?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? You're easy to talk to, I like that. I feel like we could be good friends," he said, making me… _happy_. For the first time in years, I felt genuinely happy. "What's your name by the way?" the blonde added. "Oh, I totally forgot I didn't tell you, I'm Logan. Logan Mitchel."

"Oh, I like that name," he said cheerfully, "Logan is actually one of my favorite names. And now I'm getting off track. I'm Kendall Knight."

That caused me to laugh.

"What?" Kendall asked uncertainly. "S-sorry," I stuttered between laughs, "it's just so ridiculously appropriate."

"Oh? How so?"  
"you know, you sort of saving me and all. Sort of like a knight in a shining armor, and then your last name is Knight."

Kendall joined in laughing too. "You're right, that is kinda funny."

"So, Logan… Do you go here often?" Kendall asked, after the laughter died down, both of us still smiling, though. "Yeah, kinda. I go here every time I'm upset or something. How 'bout you?"

"I go here kinda often too, whenever I need to clear my mind or just need some alone time."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How come I haven't seen you here before?" I wondered.

"I don't know. It is kinda weird we haven't run into each other before if we both go here often. I seriously thought no one else dared to go in here."

"Me too! That's why I always thought of it as the perfect place to be alone. I don't like to let people see me cry," I told him. "Me neither," Kendall said with a knowing smile. A comfortable silence unfolded in the room. "It's getting dark outside," Kendall noted, "I should probably head home." Kendall seemed almost reluctant, as if he didn't really want to go. I knew it was stupid, but it made me feel special. It made me feel _wanted_.

"Yeah, I should probably go too," I said and stood up. Kendall and I walked towards the door. I was a little sad to discover he had to go the opposite direction from me, but faced the fact that we had to say goodbye already.

I sighed. It was better to get it out of the way. I was only fooling myself by thinking he would actually care – that I hade actually made a friend. A real friend.

Yet, there was a small – microscopic, in fact – piece of me, telling me that I _had_ in fact made a friend. That I _did_ now have a reason to live.

"So, uh. I'll see you around?" Kendall asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I blinked. Did he really say that? Did he really _want_ to see me again?

"Yeah, hopefully," I said and smiled, before saying goodbye and heading off the way I knew my house was.

That part of me – that positive part – grew a little bigger. Maybe I really had made a friend?

As I walked home that night, for the first time since I can remember, a small smile played on the corners of my lips. With Kendall in my life, I just might learn to fully be happy.

* * *

**Gosh, this is angsty. Yes, I _know _I have a bunch of ther stories to update, and I'm working on that. Honestly. But this idea just popped into my mind, and I just _had _to write it out, so here I am again, with another new story.**

**I'm only creating more and more work for me. I have a bunch of other stories sitting on my computer too, and now I'm rambling. Sorry. **

**Uh, hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and feel free to let me know what you think. Whether it's good or bad :)**


	2. World So Cold

Bang.

I was slammed into a locker.

I mentally groaned, but didn't dare make a sound. It would only cause me more pain. I knew that.

A set of strong hands – a jock's, obviously – grabbed onto my shirt and sent me twirling into the lockers again, this time my bruised and broken ribs collided with the cool metal of the locker. I hissed in pain. As if breathing wasn't painful enough already.

"Nerd." Hate filled the speaker's voice. But I was used to it.

Another bang ricocheted through the hall.

I couldn't feel the pain anymore, but I knew my body had once again been pulled back from the locker, only to be sent back to it with a stronger force.

"Geek," another voice called. This too filled with an overwhelming amount of hatred. The only way anybody seemed to speak to me anymore.

I had long since given up trying to place each voice. As the jock – the football captain, I think – grabbed onto me again, I flashed back to the day before. Almost the exact same thing had happened. Only yesterday had been worse. Then a lot better.

_A lot_.

I had met Kendall for the first time.

Just thinking about him made me feel a little bit better.

I could feel a small smile playing on my lips, and it felt weird in a way. Unusual. Unfamiliar.

"Whatcha smilin' for, _smarty-pants_?" The nickname was spat in such a way it almost brought a new meaning to the word hatred. This was a new level, beyond the hate that usually filled my peers' voices when on a rare occasion they decided to speak to me. "You like pain, huh? You _like_ being beaten up?"

I didn't reply. Telling him that I smiled because I was thinking about Kendall, a guy, would surely not bring any good. I was treated badly enough as it was, I_ really_ didn't need any suspicion that I was gay added to the list of insults to throw at me.

Though I personally didn't see what was wrong with liking people of the same gender, I couldn't exactly say the same went for the rest of my school.

"Huh, smart-ass? Do you like being beaten?" the guy repeated. I didn't know what to say. What _could _I say? And just when I needed it the most, the bell rang, saving me from the guy's questioning death glare. He let go of my now wrinkled shirt, straightened himself up and headed for his next class.

I went through the rest of that day without being beat up more, to my great relief. I couldn't focus quite as much as usual during class though, but my attention level was still at a ninety-five percent.

Kendall was stuck on my brain. My one and only friend.

* * *

I barley stepped inside my house that day after school. I only dropped off my bag in my room, not bothering to take off my jacket or my shoes before I sprinted off, my iPod in hand, headed for the old abandoned house.

This time, it was not to clear my head, to be somewhere nobody would find me and cry in peace. This time it was purely in hopes of running in to Kendall again.

As I stepped inside the house I felt calm in a way, as if I was at home. Safe.

To be honest, I felt much more comfortable there than I did at home. Home. My brain spiraled into a train of thoughts. How much I missed my dad, and how my mom used to be before… I couldn't even bring myself to say it. Even think it.

A lump of built up emotions announced its presence in the pit of my stomach. I could feel the tears pressing on. I guess not even having Kendall in my life, although it had only been for some hours, was enough to make me happy.

Sure, I wasn't completely alone anymore, but it was really just the tip of the iceberg of my problems.

My parents had been a loving couple and they both cared deeply for me. I was their only child, so I ended up being a little spoiled.

Mom and dad both worked full-time jobs, but always made sure that I was okay and never felt alone.

Once I started school the started pressuring me to do well, with nothing but good intentions. But then one day in fifth grade, my dad disappeared.

At first we thought nothing of it, then two days passed and he still didn't show up. Mom contacted the police that day, the day after he disappeared.

Then three days passed.

Four. Five.

A week. Another week.

A month.

Another month.

Mom was more and more on edge. I was just old enough to know that something was seriously wrong, but I couldn't possibly grasp the reality of the situation.

Finally, after dad had been missing two full months, mom's nervous behavior disappeared. It was like somebody had flipped a switch inside her. The glow of her skin and the sparkle in her eyes disappeared. Her skin turned a matt, sickly tone and her eyes where cold. Friendly at times, but it never got that same sparkle back.

I couldn't wrap my mind around what brought on the change.

Until a year later.

I had finally had enough of the waiting, of the despair, of crying myself to sleep thinking that my dad didn't love me enough to come home to me again.

* * *

_"Mom," I called after her, my voice was barley above a whisper. My voice was shaking lightly and held more pain than any ten year-old's voice ever should. "What's wrong? Why aren't you happy?" I barley dared to utter the words, authoritative figures had always scared me. Especially going head on with them like this. _

_Especially my mother._

_My mom was a nice person, she really was, but she could be really scary too, and I had trouble talking to her like this – if something was bothering me. _

_It had taken me months just to work up the guts to ask those few words. It was now a year, give or take a few months, since my dad had disappeared._

_There was no reply. Mom just looked at me, as if she was thinking deeply about what to tell me. "Why isn't dad back yet?" I asked, tears starting to form in my eyes._

_I would have never guessed her answer. "I'm sorry, Logie. Dad's not coming back again," was her simple reply, I could see tears threatening to fell from her eyes too as she said the last few words, "he's with the angels now."_

_Tears streamed down my face. I was just old enough to know what that meant. My dad was dead. I would never see him again. Never get another goodnight hug. Never have him hold me in his arms and comfort me when I was sad. I would never have my dad back again._

_I couldn't stop the tears from falling, no matter how hard I tried. One of the most important people in my life was gone forever. Never to return again._

_The pain was almost unbearable. Almost._

_I was like a zombie for the next couple of months. I stood up each morning, ate all meals, did my homework and paid attention in class, but it was all on autopilot, nothing really registered in brain. It didn't feel as if I was really there._

* * *

I blinked my eyes in an attempt to clear the falling tears from my eyes, and eventually my sight cleared. I pushed my ear buds in and blasted Three Days Grace as usual.

There seemed to always be a song, or a verse or chorus of a song that fit my situation perfectly. The combination of the lyrics, the melody and the lead singer's powerful voice always helped me vent the remains of my feelings. Song after song came on, until suddenly one that fit me so well came on. I almost wondered if the writers had overlooked my life while writing the song.

"_Livin' with myself_

_Is all I have_

_I feel numb_

_I can't come to life_

_I feel like I'm frozen in time_

_Livin' in a world so cold_

_Wastin' away_

_Since you've gone away_

_Livin' in a wold so cold_

_Counting the days_

_Since you've gone away_"

I couldn't help but to let some more tears fall as memory after memory of my dad flashed through my mind. I pulled out the crumbled newspaper-article photo of my dad I had found in a storage box among my dad's things in the attic a few years ago. I ran the tip of my index finger over the side of his printed face. The colors where slightly faded and the picture was torn in a few places, bearing the mark of year after year living in the depths of my wallet. He was smiling happily in that picture. It looked official. He was wearing a suit, his dark brown hair pulled back in a voluminous, stylish hair do. He looked young and happy.

It was one of the last pictures ever taken of him. I gulped at the thought.

One of the last pictures ever taken of him.

_How can the world be so cold?_ I wondered, feeling more tears falling. _How can people be so cruel? How can somebody bring themselves to do that?_

I knew I should have been used to the cruelty of people by now, with my bullies and all, but it still didn't make sense in my head. I just didn't understand how somebody could enjoy hurting others. How somebody could enjoy seeing other people's blood at their hands, or seeing the light in their eyes go out as they landed the last punch.

_I guess it's a good thing that I don't see it_, I thought emotionlessly, _that means I'm not as bad_. That thought should have made me feel better, but it didn't. it seemed like nothing really would, not in the long run.

It had been six years now, since my dad died, but that didn't mean I missed him any less – that it hurt any less. The pain had just been there so long, I could hardly feel it anymore. The physical pain I went through also kept my mind off of it.

I hadn't realized how long I had been in the abandoned house until my playlist ended and I realized it was dark outside. I looked at the clock. It was only nine p.m. but I should probably head home anyway. I had school the day after.

I headed out the door, fiddling with a corner of my wallet, thinking of my dad, and walked down the path leading up to the house. I wasn't really paying attention to where I walked and walked right into somebody. Looking up I saw a set of jade green orbs and dirty blonde hair.

"Logie!" he exclaimed cheerfully and enveloped me in a tight, warm hug. "Kindle!" I exclaimed with almost equal cheeriness. How something as simple as a hug from the boy made me feel so much better was beyond me. The big smile on Kendall's face fell as he really took in my appearance. _I must look horrible_, I thought dejectedly.

"Logie, are you okay? Your eyes are all red and puffy," he noted worriedly. I didn't reply I only dug into my pocket, fished out my wallet and handed him the photo of my dad. "Who's that?"

"My dad. H-he's dead. It's the anniversary of his death today… I think."

Kendall shot me a confused look, clearly uttering the words his lips wouldn't carry. 'What do you mean "I think"?

Kendall had a look of knowledge on his face, clearly suspecting it was a long story, and pulled me by my wrist back inside the house.

"He disappeared when I was in fifth grade." My voice was heavily laced with pain, and hearing my voice so broken, so pained and fragile was killing Kendall. I could tell.

"How long was he gone? What happened?"

"He was gone for two months, until the cops found his body. It took me another three months to work up the guts to ask my mom what was wrong, why my dad never came back…" My words trailed off as I broke out silently crying again, hiding my face in my hands.

"What did she say?" Kendall asked, soothingly rubbing a hand up and down my back.

"S-she said my dad was gone, that was what was wrong, and he would never come back again. She said he's with the angels now."

"Oh, Logie," Kendall said in a loving tone, pulling me into a hug. I nuzzled my nose against the crook of his neck, letting all the tears fall silently onto his shirt. We stayed like that for a while. Me crying on Kendall's shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles onto my back. "She's right though, he's with the angels now."

"I know. That's not the worst part. I mean, I really miss him and would give about anything to have him back, but… The way he left this world… It's just horrible. Mom never told me how he died, and as I got older, I was desperate to know… so I did some research. I-it t-took me a month… of endless research, a-and just as I was about to g-give up… I-I found a few news articles about his death."

"What did it say?" Kendall asked softly, still holding onto me for his dear life.

"He was brutally murdered." Kendall gasped.

"M-murdered? Logie, I'm so, so sorry." Kendall pulled me into a looser, yet much more loving hug. It was as if placing those long slim arms around me somehow spoke all the words his lips couldn't, of his purest emotions. And it made me feel loved like never before. It made me feel better. Not just temporarily better.

"It was horrible finding that article. All the blood, his ice blue skin. All the stab wounds… It almost didn't look real, yet so gruesomely real at the same time."

"He was stabbed to death?" Kendall asked, a look of pure horror on his face.

"Sort of. He was stabbed fifteen times in the back, three times in the stomach and a total of ten in his arms and legs. But the wounds wasn't what killed him, it was the blood loss. He bled to death." I shrugged as I imagined the pain my dad had to have gone through. How terrifying it must have been – he would have known he was going to die.

"He died a slow and agonizing death," I said.

"Don't say that," Kendall said softly, reaching a hand out and placing it under my chin, gently rubbing my jawline and the bottom of my cheek with his thumb, "you don't know if that's true."

"Kendall, I've been studying medical books and the human anatomy for years, I could basically go to medical school now and pass all classes, so trust me when I say, a death like that is slow, agonizing and one of the most painful ways to die. It takes you about half an hour to bleed out, and with several deep cuts like that, you will be left in great pain as the life slowly floats out of you."

"You could be a really good horror author," Kendall noted disgusted, making me laugh. Kendall immediately brightened up and forgot all about his disgust.

We stayed in the house chatting until it was ten thirty p.m. and we both needed to get home, but neither of us really wanted to leave the other.

"I guess I'll see you around, Kindle," I said felling a lot better after seeing him again.

"Yeah. I'll see ya around, Logie," Kendall said and pulled me into one of his signature tight hugs.

"Here's the picture of your dad, by the way," Kendall said reaching it out for me.

"Thanks." I flashed him a smile that disappeared as my hand lightly grazed his. A jolt of electricity ran up my spine at the touch. I was confused as to what that meant. I mean, in all the books and cheesy movies I had read and seen, that meant you were in love…

I'm not in love with Kendall!

… right?

* * *

**A/N: Wooo! So I've written a new chapter fairly quickly. Uhm, basically every chapter will be named after a Three Days Grace song, simply because I feel like it fits in with the story and the song will be mentioned in the chapter.**

**I'm also pretty bad at writing angst in the length (which you can probably tell as every chapter ands on a happy-ish note) and it helps me stay in the angsty mood. So yeah, that's also why Logan loves them :)**

**Oh, and of course THANK YOU so, so much to all of you who have reviewed, alerted and favorite the story, it really does mean a lot to me, and it's nice to see that you like it :)**


	3. Loser

**Hey, I'm sorry this took me longer than I wanted it to. I would have had it up yesterday, but since it was my birthday my best friend (who happened to give me custom made Btr shoes and a shirt, she's AWSOME) decided to show up at my door at 9 30 or something, I didn't get to write at all :/ **

**But at least I had a great birthday in case anybody cares :) **

**Warning: There is some... suggestive (?) language in this chapter.**

**Without further ado, on with the story :)**

* * *

I planned on going to class like I normal, I really did, but Jett, by far the worst one of the bullies, had my way to class blocked by a bunch of his hooligans. And no matter how much I loved AP Chemistry, I would not knowingly put myself through Jett's wrath. So, as soon as I figured out what they where up to, I turned on my heel and ran the other way. But the pounding of my footsteps seemed to ring through the halls louder than ever. I wanted to get away from the name-calling, get away from all the bullies – just get away from everything. I let my feet take the lead through twists and turns, up and down flight after flight of stairs, until I had shaken them off and the bell rang.

I ducked into the nearest room, wanting to escape the crowd the bell signaled coming, slamming into the concrete wall next to the door, my heart thudding wildly. I slid down the wall, until I was fully on the floor, burying my face in my hands. I felt so pathetic running from my problems – from the entire student body – like this. I was ashamed of myself. Why couldn't I just be like any normal kid? Why couldn't I have been into comic books, and sports, and, and _girls_, like any body else? No. I just _had_ to love everything related to math and science. I just _had_ to despise any sport – well, except hockey, but that so wasn't the point – and _of course_ I had to be gay.

Gay. There, I just said it. I was gay.

Just the thought made me nauseous. Jett and his idiots were already on to me, if they figured for real that I was crushing on my one and only friend, there would be no end to their torture. The fact that about 90 percent of homophobes giving others a hard time for being gay, were in fact gay themselves, did very little to cheer me up. Jett could be as gay as me for all I cared; it didn't make things any less painful for me.

As I looked around me, for the first time really seeing the room I was in, I discovered it was one of the choir classrooms, which weren't used at this time of the day. I pulled out my beloved iPod, the thing I by far loved more than anything, and plugged it up to the classroom speakers. I pressed play and of course it picked the song best fitting what I felt at the moment. Sometimes I almost wondered if it could tell how I was feeling. But I knew that was just me being silly, it wasn't like my iPod – a piece of electronic – could tell what I was feeling. No, it was just some weird coincidence.

_This will fall away, this will fall away_

_You're getting closer_

_To pushing me off of life's little edge_

_Cause I'm a loser_

_Sooner or later you know I'll be dead_

_You're getting closer_

_Holding the rope and I'm taking the fall_

_Cause I'm a loser_

_I'm a loser, yeah_

I felt a familiar dampness rolling down my cheeks – I was crying again.

All I really wanted was for the pain to go away. All I wanted was to be fine for a change. I wanted somebody to be my friend, someone I could talk to in school, someone I could talk to and have sleepovers with when mom was stuck at work so I wouldn't have to be alone anymore. I was sick and tired of everything. I wasn't sure how much longer I could take this. How much longer I could keep living with this pain, the loneliness. I had nobody besides Kendall, and even him did I only see twice a week, if I was lucky. As much as I liked him, it just wasn't enough. I couldn't live in solitude any longer. I couldn't live with the pain.

I had promised myself I wouldn't stoop this low, that I wouldn't be like my cousin, but it just felt so… so _right_.

I pulled my backpack closer to me, dipping my hand inside the outer pocket, retrieving the razorblade I had had there the past three months. Ever since the desire to cut grew. Before I had the time to rethink my actions, I swiftly drew the blade across my skin, and it felt… good. Relieving, in a way.

Wanting, needing, more of that feeling, I drew it across my skin again and again. Blood slowly seeping out of each wound and dripping down on the floor, each drop sounding like an explosion in my ears. Four cuts on each wrist in, I seemed to realize what I was doing. I was cutting. A chill ran down my spine. Why did I choose this week to be the one week I left my first aid kit at home? The one and only time I would actually need it.

_Isn't that just typical_, I thought bitterly, searching the room for something I could use to wrap my wrists in until I could get some actual bandages on them. Settling for some paper grabbing my iPod and running out of the empty classroom and towards the way out of the school, muttering something about how I wished I could just talk to Kendall.

I should have seen it coming, I really should have. Like this cruel world would let me get out of school without running into anybody. If there was a God, he had to be a seriously sadistic bastard, letting me go through all this – making my life as miserable as it could possibly be. To be fair it probably could be a little worse, not that I could really think of how. Just as the thought passed my mind, I slammed into someone – or rather, someone slammed into me.

Looking up, I saw short light brown hair and blue grey eyes and that trademark smug expression. Jett.

"Look who we have here," Jett said almost cheerfully, but naturally with an evil undertone, "who's your boyfriend, faggot?"

I was confused. I wasn't with anybody, in any meaning of the word. Jett had never even seen me hang around anyone.

"I thought Kendall was a girl's name," one of Jett's hooligans said. Of course. Of course they had heard me muttering Kendall's name.

"My cousin is named Kendall, you idiot," Jett said and smacked the guy's head, "you know the hockey captain?"

"But didn't he get kicked off the team?" Asked another one of Jett's friends or whatever.

"No! He just decided to transfer schools, cause this school has a better hockey team, plus he brought two of their best players with him," Jett said. _Oh great_, I though, _more Stetson blood at this school and a hockey captain at that. Just kill me now_.

"You heard that fag? My hockey captain cousin is transferring to this school today. He'll make sure your life is as miserable as can be," Jett threatened, getting all up in my personal space.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

I needed to get away, and made a run for it, but Jett was somehow faster than me and grabbed me by my arm and slammed me into the lockers. "Don't you dare runaway from me, faggot!" Jett hissed and landed a punch at the side of my head. Another punch was delivered to my ribs while Jett's friends pinned me to the lockers. I squirmed in their grips until they put pressure on my still bleeding wounds.

That was it for me, I couldn't keep quiet any longer and screamed at the top of my lungs.

* * *

I was walking down the hall of my new school, looking for my cousin listening to the steady beat of 'Loser' by 3 Doors Down seeping from my ear buds.

That night after I met Logan for the first time, I looked up Three Days Grace, a band that seemed to be a favorite of his, and came across 3 Doors Down as well, and haven't been able to stop listening to either band since. A faint smile made its way onto my lips. Logan. Just the thought of him made me all tingly inside, as cliché as that was.

I couldn't help but to be a bit worried about him though, knowing he was bullied everyday at school, beaten up and mentally abused, yet there was nothing I could really do about it and it just made me feel so helpless. All I really wanted was to take all his pain away and give his bullies a thorough beating, but I wouldn't sink to their lowly ways. I had no intentions of putting anyone else through that kind of pain I had to see Logan suffer through. It wouldn't do any good either, it's not like it would stop Logan's bullies, no matter how much I wanted it to. I just wish I knew which school he was going to so I could track them down and have them expelled or _something_.

But I didn't know, so for now, all I could really do was hope with all my heart that _Loser_ didn't describe how Logan felt and that I was enough for him for now, that I could fill up his life just a little bit of how he filled mine. And maybe, if I was_ really_ lucky he could be more than just a friend. _If only_, I thought with a heavy sigh.

A sudden pained scream pulled me from my thoughts and sent me running down the hall where the scream came from. Turning a corner I spotted Jett and his idiot friends surrounding somebody they had pinned to the lockers. I couldn't believe this, Jett, my own cousin was one of those horrendous guys bringing nothing but pain into others lives. I had never before been more ashamed of being related to him, which is saying quite a bit. The boy let out another scream as they put pressure on his wrists, his face turned towards me, his face converted into a horrendous mask of utter pain. My body was flooded with a rage unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

"You!" I snarled at Jett, causing his smug smile to fall and all boys' attention turn to me, "you're the idiot who's been hurting Logan all along. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, MAN?" I grabbed Jett by his shirt and almost slammed him into the wall, but barley refrained from doing so.

"He's a fucking faggot, Kendall!"

"So what? I am and you never seemed to have a problem with me!"

"Wait, did you just say Logan?" Jett wondered dumbfounded.

"Yeah. That's his name you know."

"You _know_ him?"

"Yeah, I do, and if you just pulled your head out of your ass you might actually realize that he's an amazing, funny, smart, a super nice guy and a much better person than you can even dream of being. He doesn't deserve any of the crap you give him, and he's one of my best friends. I don't let people mess with my friends, Jett, and if I ever see any of you laying a hand on him again I will fucking rip your heads off. Is that understood?" I put as much venom in my tone as I could while still keeping relatively calm, and judging by their scared expressions I got my point across clearly.

* * *

"You!" snarled a familiar voice I would recognize anywhere. Kendall. The way he snarled at Jett defending me was a little scary but_ so_ sexy, and for the first time I couldn't help but to imagine him using that voice to whisper his dirty fantasies in my ear. Feeling blood rush down to my lower regions, I shook the thoughts away, not wanting to get any harder than I already was.

I had never before been so happy as I was now to see Kendall, or anyone else for that matter. For the first time someone was actually defending me, not throwing insults my way. My eyes stayed glued to Kendall all the time, and almost smiled when he looked like he wanted to slam Jett into the wall.

"He's a fucking faggot, Kendall"

I cringed inwardly at Jett's harsh words aimed for me. So what if I was? It's not like it made me into some sort of a freak, but the way the words where spat, it might as well have.

"So what? I am and you never seemed to have a problem with me!" I heard Kendall retort. Wait, what?

Kendall Knight, evidentially ex-hockey captain, my only friend and secret crush was gay? Maybe, by chance, there was a God after all and he had decided it was time for me to have some good things in my life? If there was, and he was about to give me a chance with Kendall, I would forever love him.

"You _know_ him?" Jett asked harshly, pulling me back into their argument.

"Yeah, I do, and if you just pulled your head out of your ass you might actually realize that he's an amazing, funny, smart, a super nice guy and a much better person than you can even dream of being. He doesn't deserve any of the crap you give him, and he's one of my best friends, and I don't let people mess with my friends, and if I ever see any of you laying a hand on him again I will fucking rip your heads off. Is that understood?" sounded Kendall's reply.

A warm tingly feeling flooded my body as a smile spread across my lips. I was one of Kendall's best friends? And he thought I was that amazing? Suddenly I was on cloud nine, and for the first time, I wasn't scared of letting it show. I knew that with Kendall here Jett wouldn't do me any harm, not when Jett himself looked like he was about to wet his pants. Jett, looking more indignant than I had imagined possible, turned on his heel and left with his hooligans in tow.

"Are you okay?" Kendall asked worriedly as they left.

"Yeah, no broken bones or anything, since you showed up. I might get a few bruises though, but I'll live," I replied, actually meaning it. I genuinely felt like it wasn't that bad this time.

"You sure? It sounded like you were in some serious pain by the way you screamed," Kendall said, making me blush furiously. Oh god, he must think I'm a weak little thing. Kendall started feeling up and down my ribs and back, as if checking if I was really okay. I felt flustered. Kendall was touching me. It wasn't like he actually needed to check that thoroughly if I was okay.

"Did you really mean it?" I asked curiously.

"Hmm?" he hummed, moving onto my shoulders.

"What you told Jett about me?"

"How amazing you are?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, of course. I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," Kendall said as he moved onto checking my arms, "hey, you're pretty ripped do you work out or something?"

"A little on my OW-" I cried out as he put pressure on each of my wrists. Kendall's eyes widened and pulled up the sleeves of my hoodie revealing the now bloodstained paper wrapped wrists. Kendall swiftly unwrapped them, fully exposing my jagged wrists. He gasped and looked up at me with teary eyes, making me want to cry myself.

"Logie," he muttered lovingly, "why would you do this? Why would you hurt yourself that way?"

I could tell he was looking at me, but I couldn't bear seeing the pain in his beautiful green eyes, so I looked away chewing on my bottom lip to keep the tears from falling. "It's Jett, isn't it?"

I nodded slowly. It was more too, but mostly Jett, and I didn't trust my voice to carry the words I wanted to say to Kendall. "God, I hate that motherfucker," Kendall almost whispered. "Just please promise me you won't do this again, will you?" Kendall asked. I flashed him my lopsided smile, promising I wouldn't. "Give me your phone," Kendall demanded.

"Why?"

"Just give it to me," he said with a cunning smile. I handed him my phone and he typed in something before handing it back to me. "There," he said just as I spotted his name on my contact list, "now if you ever have the urge to cut again, or just wanna talk, just call me. No matter what time of day it is."

"Thanks, Kindle."

"Kindle?" Kendall asked surprised.

"Uh, yeah. I can stop calling you that if you don't like it."

"No, no, I like it, it's just nobody else calls me that. But if you do keep that, I'm gonna keep calling you Logie," Kendall said cheerfully, smiling brightly.

"I can live with that, Kindle."

"Well then Logie," he said as we started walking, "care to tell me how you managed to get so ripped?"

I laughed. "I'm hardly ripped."

Kendall raised an eyebrow as if to say that was far from the truth.

"I'm not!" I protested, "but if you have to know, my dad built a gym in our house before he died which I use almost every day and I skate a bit."

"Skate? As in ice skating?" Kendall asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yup."

"What kind of skating? Have you ever played hockey?" Kendall asked quickly, almost stumbling over his words with excitement he did nothing to contain.

"Yeah, hockey is actually the only sport I can withstand. I would actually go as far as to say I love it, and I play a lot on my own, just practicing my aim and stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Don't sound so excited, Kindle," I said and chuckled at his excited demeanor.

"Hey, I can't help it, okay. I used to be the hockey captain at my old school, hockey has been my life forever and if I can share that with any of my friends, I'm ecstatic."

"I get it, Kindle, I really do. 'M just teasin' ya."

"Hey, you need to show me your skills. Wanna get out of here?"

"Thought you'd never ask," I said, "wanna go to my place? There's a pretty decent pond which has already iced over not that far from my house."

"Sure, I'm just gonna go grab some of my hockey gear," Kendall said and showed me the way to the hokey team's locker room where all of Kendall's gear was already stored. He grabbed his skates and his hockey stick and we were off to my place.

* * *

"Hey, Kendall?" I asked after a while in silence.

"Yeah?"

"Why exactly did you transfer schools?"

"Well, because this school has better hockey team. At least that's what I tell everybody, but honestly it was because it came out on my old school that I was gay and most of my team mates freaked and wouldn't even let me shower with them even thought I wasn't interested in either of them, and some people were giving me a hard time for it, so my coach suggested transferring schools to this one, which really does have a better hockey team and provides a better opportunity for me to go pro, like I've always wanted to," Kendall explained.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you directly that I'm gay before I told Jett off, but it's not that easy to just be like 'hey, I just met you, I hope you don't mind, but I'm gay' you know? You don't mind, do you?"

"Yeah, I get it. And no, I don't mind at all, if I did I'd be a hypocrite."

"Oh?"

"I'm gay too," I said and could have almost sworn I saw Kendall's eyes brighten up. Just then we arrived at my place. I let Kendall in and told him I was just going to go upstairs and find some bandages for my wrists and that he could just look around my room while I did so. It didn't take me long to clean my wounds and bandage them properly, and before long we were off to the pond.

"Okay, show me what you've got, Logie," Kendall said, getting into his position as goalie in our impromptu goal (since it was a pond we didn't have an actual hockey goal).

Kendall and I played for a while moving over every possible aspect of the game and despite his all too evident skills at the game, I got a few goals passed him. A solid three hours after we started, we called it quits, both of us being too tired to play any more.

"You know, you should try out for the hockey team," Kendall said pulling off his helmet.

"What? No, I couldn't do that. The season has started a long time ago and I'm nowhere near good enough to be on the team," I protested. Kendall laughed loudly.

"Yeah right. You're better than half the team. Actually, if you kept this pace up and joined a team, you could actually go pro, or at least get a hockey scholarship for college."

"Really? I'm _that_ good? Me?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Come on Logie, don't be so hard on yourself. You're really one of the best hockey players I know. You're quick on the ice, you have lightning fast reflexes, you have an insane control of the puck, and probably most importantly you have your mind in the game and tactics unlike anything I've ever seen before."

Wow. Was I really _that_ good? "Huh. Maybe I _should_ try out?" I asked myself out loud.

"YES! Yes, you should," Kendall said encouragingly.

"Okay," I nodded, "I will then."

"Good," Kendall said almost sounding smug and slung an arm around my shoulders.

Somehow, after that day, my love for the taller blonde grew. I already thought he was awesome, but he was also a very caring guy, and he had the ability to make me feel like life was worth living – that I was at least a bit as amazing as I thought him to be, and maybe, just maybe, there was a teeny tiny chance Kendall might one day love me back. I, for once, felt content with just being me and I didn't feel alone.

* * *

**Ooooh, there are a little bit of Kogan in this chapter :) **

**I don't really know how I feel about this chapter though... **

**Review and let me know what you think? Pretty please?**

* * *

**So I'm updating this again after one of you so kindly pointed out that Loser is of course by 3 Doors Down and not Three Days Grace. I _knew _there was something wrong with the chapter. so now that I'm done dying with embarrasment, I'm correcting the mistake :)**


	4. Lullaby

**hey look at that. Second update in 2 days. would have been uploaded yesterday but then our wifi crashed and i was too lazy to go refresh it. Don't judge, i'm sick.**

**anyway, this was almost done in october or something, but then i forgot about it and i've been busy, so yeah. **

**I personally don't really think this is particurlarly good, and it's angsty (duh).**

**here it is anyway :)**

* * *

Kendall came up to the coach and captain of the hockey team the day after, suggesting that they gave Logan a shot. Well, without saying his name specifically.

The captain of the team, one of Jett's best friends, just laughed at him. "What, you think that just because you were captain at your old team, you can just come here and expect to make decisions? Well, guess what. That's not how it works," the guy Kendall believed was named Bryson, the hockey captain, said.

"Bryson," the coach said sharply, abruptly shutting him up, "now, Kendall you do know that the season has already started and we have a full team as it is."

"I'm aware of that, but this guy is really good. I played with him for hours yesterday, and I can honestly tell you that he is better than half the guys already on the team. He managed to get a good deal of goals passed me, even if I tried my best to stop him," Kendall explained. Bryson huffed.

"That only shows your incompetence."

"Bryson! Drop the attitude. The only reason you're captain and not Kendall is the fact that you were already captain when he got here, so stop acting like you're so much better than him," Coach yelled, then turned to face Kendall, "what's this fabulous guy's name?"

"Logan."

"Logan what? There are lots of Logans in this school."

"Logan Mitchell," Kendall replied.

"The nerdy, straight A student?" Coach asked.

"Logan Mitchell?! You want that fucking faggot on the team?!" Bryson exclaimed.

"I do not tolerate that kind of language, Gossling. I am this close from yanking you off of the team," Coach said, holding his fingers a mere centimeter apart for emphasis. "Besides wether he likes girls or guys has absolutely nothing to do with his skills on the ice. If he's good he's good. That's all that matters. Tell your friend to be here at four PM sharp, and I'll see what he's good for. I might let him in if he's as good as you claim."

"Thank you, coach, I really appreciate it," Kendall said.

* * *

Getting on to the team proved not to be a problem at all, the coach even went so far as to say that Logan was just what they needed to once again have a shot at winning nationals. The moment Logan had stepped onto the ice, he had handled himself with such grace and skill that even Bryson reluctantly had to admit he was impressed, and Kendall really, really wanted to shout '_in your face, Bryson!_' But of course he wouldn't – both because Kendall wouldn't be the gloating guy, and because at the end of the day, Bryson was the captain and a sort of authority figure.

Needless to say, Kendall was satisfied.

* * *

Starting on the hockey team wasn't half bad. Actually, Logan thought it was fun to be on a proper team for a change. Besides, an extracurricular like a sport would make his college application look even better. Logan also got to meet Carlos and James for the first time and his friend base had now tripled.

Jett and his friends were still attacking Logan, though. They guys were still picking on him; his main source of pain wasn't gone. Hence, the cutting didn't stop either, because Logan didn't feel like he was ever safe, he felt like he was a failure, like he was unwanted. Like nobody could ever love him. It seemed not even his own mother did.

Achieving a spot on the school's hockey team didn't help that. It's not like just one little change would magically fix everything. Logan knew that, he really did. But that didn't mean he didn't feel like he should be happy, like he was betraying some force of destiny or something. He didn't really know what it was exactly, or how to properly explain it, because really, how does one go about even attempting to explain what a depression feels like? How does one go about trying to explain that they feel utterly lost and alone, even in the midst of a crowd, even when they know they have things to be happy for? Or the breathtaking pain that engulfs your lungs and your entire chest, squeezing and tugging, morphing the emotional pain into something as physical as a heart attack – which was what Logan figured it felt like.

More importantly, how does one go about baring one's innermost thoughts to a person one hardly sees, a person one knows somewhere deep down won't actually care?

And so, Logan decided there really wasn't anything to tell, or rather there wasn't _anyone_ to tell.

But that didn't mean he didn't feel guilty. Like, again, he was committing a crime against nature itself.

Logan had promised to be at every practice, promised Kendall he would, and Kendall knew he wasn't the type to break a promise.

Kendall couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He didn't know what it was exactly, couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong. Then realization dawned upon him, like being hit by a wave of ice cold water and a brick wall at the same time: Logan was nowhere to be seen, his stuff wasn't in the locker room where he and his equipment should be. He should be at practice by this time. He always was.

Kendall was so caught up in mentally freaking out, and feeling like an idiot for it, that he might have jumped a bit as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out seeing it was a tweet update from Logan, and okay, maybe that was a bit stalker-ish, but truthfully, Kendall didn't really care.

"_That's it, I give up… you win_," the tweet read.

Kendall blinked in surprise, feeling all the blood drain from his head.

He knew what that sounded like. Maybe he hadn't been completely paranoid by freaking out. Or maybe he was just overreacting, but he had caught Logan cutting, Logan had told him about feeling worthless; like he had nothing to live for, and about all the bullies. So Kendall wasn't about to make any assumptions.

Knowing all of that, Kendall was now in full out panic.

He picked up his phone, typing in the number he knew a little too well for his own liking, though he didn't have time to worry about that. Right then, other things were much more important.

"Pick up, pick up," Kendall whispered, hoping, praying that it would make the brunette pick up the phone. But he didn't.

He tried again, but with the same result.

His heart twisted painfully and sped up, pounding so heavily in his chest it felt like it had somehow morphed into a sledge hammer. Fear flooded his veins as he tried calling Logan once again, only to reach his voice mail all over again.

Kendall dropped his ice skates, leaving them scattered behind, not caring what happened to them anymore, as Kendall took off running. He picked up his pace as he maneuvered through the deserted halls of the school, and before he knew it, he was sprinting with his phone clutched tightly to his ear dialing and redialing Logan's cellphone number.

His feet carried him where he assumed Logan would be – the old house where they first met. But as he burst through the door, he was met with nothing but a dust covered floor and old furniture the previous owners hadn't cared to bring with them.

There in a corner, he spotted a glimpse of silver – a razor blade covered in dried blood. Kendall fell to his knees feeling helpless and scared. He couldn't find Logan anywhere, and Kendall knew he still hated his life, that he obviously still cut himself – the razor blade on the floor was all the proof he needed. A salty tear drop fell to the floor, mingling with drops of dried blood and dust.

Breaking into sobs, Kendall did the only thing that felt natural, searched for the old guitar he kept around at the house and started playing, his fingers carrying out random chords morphing into a song he knew a little too well. But it fit so, so perfectly.

"_There ain't no healing_

_From cutting yourself with the jagged edge_

_Laid out on the floor _

_And you're not sure you can take this anymore_," Kendall sang, his voice raspy and rough and barley strong enough to press the words past his lips.

"_If you can hear me now_

_I'm reaching out_

_To let you know that you're not alone," _he sang, desperately wishing that Logan would somehow hear him. _Just please_… he mentally begged. _Please_.

"_And if you can't tell I'm scared as hell_

'_Cause I can't get you on the telephone_." Kendall couldn't help but to imagine the worst as tears slid down his checks, falling onto dried droplets of blood. He had already lost count of how many times he had called the other boy, far too many times for his liking. And true to the lyrics, he was scared, terrified. No, even terrified was an understatement. Just the thought of Logan… no, Kendall just couldn't lose him.

"_So just close your eyes_

_Oh, honey here comes a lullaby_

_Your very own lullaby_," Kendall sang on, this time a bit stronger, louder. If only Logan was here.

_God, I wish Logan was here_, he thought, his heart aching for the other boy. And Kendall was praying that he just forgot his phone downstairs at his house and was too wrapped up in a book to hear it constantly ringing. But the painful churning in his guts told him that wasn't very likely.

The thoughts of what was actually going on were far worse, and Kendall knew he couldn't go there. His heart just wouldn't be able to take it. Just couldn't take the thought of losing Logan.

"_Please let me take you _

_Out of the darkness and into the light_

'_Cause I have faith in you_

_That you're gonna make it through another night_

_Stop thinking about the easy way out_

_There's no need to go and blow the candle out_

_Because you're not done_

_You're far too young_

_And the best is yet to come_."

Kendall sang the words with all his might, putting his heart and soul into every single word, into every syllable, as if by some miracle it would make Logan hear the words, like it would prevent him from doing something stupid and permanent. So he kept on repeating a few lines; _If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out. And if you can't tell I'm scared as hell, 'Cause I can't get you on the telephone, _repeated them over and over, the words becoming a mantra as he prayed. Prayed that he would get to see Logan again, prayed that he would actually hear him.

Prayed that he wasn't too late.

All of a sudden he heard sniffling. His head jerking up, bright green eyes met dark chocolate brown.

"Logan," Kendall whispered, and just stared blankly at the gorgeous boy in front of him, gorgeous even with tear stained cheeks and scars covering his underarms, some old and faded and some fresh and bright. A few more seconds passed before Kendall's brain managed to process what was happening, Logan was there. He was alive! Though disheveled, he was alive.

Kendall jumped to his feet, a huge grin plastered on his face and arms wrapped around the other's neck.

"Oh my God, you're alive," Kendall laughed, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. "Promise me," Kendall breathed, his chest heaving a bit, as if he was the one with all the pain flooding his veins on a daily basis, "just promise me never to scare me like that again. I wouldn't be able to stand losing you."

Logan looked away, biting his lip to keep the tears in.

"I'm sure you would have been perfectly fine without me," Logan said.

The scary part, Kendall thought, was that Logan seemed to full-heartedly believe that – that Kendall would be perfectly fine without him in his life.

And Kendall almost could have sworn he heard the sound of his heart breaking.

"Logie, listen to me," Kendall said, laying a gentle hand on his cheek, letting his fingers drag across the soft skin of his check and down to the shorter boy's jawline, pulling his face towards Kendall, "if you died… If I lost you …"

Kendall let his tears fall as his voice cracked at the mere thought. "I would never be the same. I was so scared that I would never see you again, Logan. You have no idea. If I lost you… I can't even think of it, Logan, it just hurts too much. Just… Just trust me when I say the world would not be a better place without you, okay?" Kendall pleaded, pulling Logan even closer, his eyes lading on his lips for a second, admiring their perfect, plump shape. And that's when it really registered in his brain that Logan was there in his arms, flush against him and he may never get another chance like this. "I was so scared that I would never get to do this," he said before he plunged in for a kiss, their lips meeting in a soft gentle touch, before they both let go and dove in, hands roaming and tongues meeting in a hasty, intense and so powerful kiss. So, so powerful, and if there was any doubt of it before, Logan now knew for certain that Kendall loved him, truly loved him – the way that Logan had loved Kendall from the very beginning.

"I love you, Logan. And I was too scared to tell you that before, but when I couldn't reach you after seeing that tweet, I was absolutely terrified of losing you and I realized how fragile life can be and I just have to say it. I fucking love you, so much more than I thought was possible, but it is and I wouldn't change it for the world."

A bright smile spread across his lips, and for the first time since Kendall got to know him, it fully reached his eyes and Kendall's heart stopped. Logan had always been beautiful, but that smile, that sheer happiness (and love?) made him absolutely breath taking, and Kendall decided that if he could be the reason for that smile the rest of his life, he would die a happy man. "I love you too, Kendall. So much." And there was a sincerity to his words, telling Kendall that he really did mean it, and Kendall's heart now just felt like it was about to burst. "Will you be my boyfriend, Logan?"

"As if you really have to ask," Logan said, cracking a smile – a genuine heartfelt smile, one Kendall had never seen until that very moment.

* * *

**Kogan happened, yay!**


End file.
